Friends of a Tyrant

As conceited as your mind can get.
Bleeding through every pore,
"Look at me! My opinion is fact!"
just wait for footprints on your back.
I can't recall a time when,
you actually pulled through.
I don't recall a time when,
all maps pointed to you.
What exactly do you do?
Other than tell everyone who they are.
It's about time you took a look for yourself,
But I know that day is way too far,
off the broken pattern of sincerity.
our friendship is nothing of a charity.
You'll never know, you'll never show.
But I'm not surprised, through tired eyes,
I can now see the open road.